


You're Not My Demon

by monkeyihihji



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst?, Aziraphale may be Crowley's angel but Crowley is his demon, Aziraphale meeting Ten, Love Realization, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, You go too fast for me Crowley, he's just lonely, ineffable husbands, ten is a bit chaotic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 12:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19173523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monkeyihihji/pseuds/monkeyihihji
Summary: Aziraphale thinks he's following Crowley into an old blue police box, he's a little bit surprised when he finds out who is actually inside.





	You're Not My Demon

Aziraphale knew many things thanks to the plethora of millennia he has been on Earth--given most of these things were about rare books and the wonders of fine dining. But all his knowledge seemed useless as he tried to figure out what an old police box was doing in the alley behind his shop, and more importantly, why he watched Crowley run inside of it. Well, he was almost certain it was the demon--Aziraphale had spent six thousand years memorizing stick-like figure and all the hairstyles that came along with it. The most recent being what resembled a cockatoo on his head. The only problem was that he seemed to be wearing a tan trench coat. Which grabbed Aziraphale’s attention, because he had never known his demon to wear anything other than black or dark grey.

“Crowley, what the Heavens are you doing?” Aziraphale called as he neared the antique box. It was quite remarkable really, despite its age being somewhere between fifty to sixty years ago, it was an excellent shape; not even a chip in the paint.

There was no response from inside the box. _Dear goodness, surely the box isn’t so big that he can’t hear me calling for him_. Aziraphale took a step closer and he felt an odd surge of energy coming from the police box that didn’t feel exactly human.

He reached up to politely knock on the door, “Cr--oh.” The door had opened slightly inwards the moment his knuckles brushed it. “Crowley, what is this?” He called, yet no answer came.

Aziraphale felt himself feel a twinge of panic. Is Crowley alright? Surely he couldn’t just barge through the door though, that would be an invasion of privacy even if it was his friend inside. _But, what if he is in trouble_? A voice sounding suspiciously like the demon’s echoed in his head. Aziraphale shook his head and turned away. No. No, Crowley would be fine. He survived a ring of fire, for Pete’s sake! Even at these thoughts, Aziraphale found himself turning back to take another look at the door cracked open. Technically, he didn’t have a side that would care if he looked. And it _was_ tempting.

Before he could register what on earth he was doing, Aziraphale rushed through the door and it closed behind him. To say that Aziraphale was in awe of the sight before him would be an overstatement; he wasn’t surprised nor in shock, but almost disappointed in finding box to be bigger on the inside. Truthfully, he regretfully never stepped foot in a police box in the 1950s and he had always wanted to. Now he had to figure out if this box was angelic or demonic, or possibly something other.

The one thing that caught his eye was what appeared to be the control center in the middle and he made his way towards it. It definitely wasn’t from Upstairs, and despite the complete and utter lack of any organization of the buttons and switches, he was positive it wasn’t from Downstairs as well. Which only left one probable explanation, one that he didn’t much care for.

“Oh, hello! I didn’t hear you co--Michael Sheen?” Crowley had appeared from the other side of the control panel.

Aziraphale froze. Wait. No.

“I’m a huge fan!” Not-Crowley nearly bounced over, looking as if an excited puppy.

Wrong.

“Well, I say huge fan. Technically, I’m not as huge as a fan as one of my friend’s. Well, I say she was a huge fan.”

Wrong.

“She only ever saw that Apocolypse one? Oh, what was that called? League of… oh! Yes! League of Gentlemen’s Apocolypse. That was a good one.”

_Wrong._

Everything was wrong. The blue pinstriped suit. The red shoes. The clear lens glasses. And his eyes. His eyes were the worst. They were human. Which was impossible. Crowley was a demon; he had serpent eyes. They were supposed to be yellow and slitted, not brown and welcoming. And where was the tattoo on his cheek? Arizaphale felt his mouth fall open as Not-Crowley spoke. In retrospect, he did look like Crowley. His hair--albeit the wrong colour--defied gravity in the same manor. His teeth were crooked in the same way. His voice was even the same, even though it seemed to be a warmer tone.

“Well, I say it was good. I never really wat--”

“Crowley?” Arizaphale winced at how weak and confused his voice sounded.

The man scrunched his face, mimicking the confusion, “What?”

“If this is a joke, I don’t think it is very funny.”

Crowley(?) took off the glasses, he looked at him with such an amount of concern that Aziraphale nearly felt lightheaded, “Is everything okay?”

“I think there is something terribly amiss.” Aziraphale forced himself to sound more confident than he felt. He prayed that he looked calmer than he felt, hoping someone was still willing to listen to him.

“Who or what is a “Crow-ley?”

“You are? Anthony J. Crowley. Although, I don’t know what the ‘J’ stands for, I suppose no one does.” Rambling. Yes. He can ramble. Perhaps he can fill the awkwardness with speaking, although he wasn’t exactly sure what to say.

Not-Crowley leaned back and sniffed loudly, “My name is the Doctor. Definitely not a Crowley. Who is he?”

“He’s my demon. Oh! No. My friend. Demon that is my friend. Not mine. Heavens no.” Arizaphale felt himself redden at the thought of Crowley being his. He blinked down and away from the Doctor and then glanced back, “You look strikingly similar. Almost exact.”

“That’s odd… I thought I was the only one who had this face. Did you say demon?” The Doctor leaned in close again, “then that makes you an--”

“Angel. Well. Former Angel? It’s a bit of a long story, and honestly, I don’t understand much of it myself.”

The Doctor blinked in surprise, “An angel!? I’ve never met an actual angel before. Well, I mean, Weeping Angels but…” his face suddenly turned grim, “Don’t much care for those.”

The mood change was so sudden that it shocked Aziraphale, he had never seen so much emotion cross Crowley’s face before. And even this “Doctor” wasn’t his Crowley, he looked enough alike him to make Aziraphale want to do whatever he could to regain the man’s cheery spirit, “So, you are a doctor then?”

He shrugged, “I could be. That’s my name. Just the Doctor. And this,” he gestured to the room around them, “is my TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimension In Space. She takes me when and wherever. I want to go.” His smile returned as he looked at his machine, “although, I think she may have hopped an alternative universe or two, which isn’t good. I can’t control if she’ll do that or not, something must be wrong with the wiring panel. Well, it actually should be nearly impossible, there’s protocols against it. She should be correcting the mistake soon and send us back before any real damage is done.”

Time travel, right. Aziraphale knew little of the subject, but he that no ordinary being could do such a thing. “So you ar--”

“A Timelord. Probably what you identify as an alien? Last one of my kind. It’s a long story.” Aziraphale could see that the Doctor was trying not to look saddened by that statement.

“Right,” Aziraphale nodded, straightening his jacket. “And do you have a traveling partner?”

The answer was nearly instant, “No. Not at the moment. But occasionally I have a companion or two. What about you? Do you and your partner travel?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks reddened all over, “Friend.” He corrected firmly, “He’s my friend.”

The Doctor seemed to give a smile as if he knew something Aziraphale didn’t, “I’ve had friends like that.”

The angel found himself glancing to the floor again, his lips pressed together in a line. Friends. That’s all him and Crowley were. Friends who save each other from harm of their respective sides, friends who go out to dinner quite frequently, who go for walks in the park, spend nearly all their time together. He took a moment to dwell on all the interactions they had in the past together… Oh God--he’d apologize later for using Her name in vain--Crowley was _his_ demon. And he was Crowley’s angel. They were entirely more than just friends, how did it take him this long to notice? How did this strange man know before he did?

The Doctor was smiling, but the air around the room was weighed with an amount of sadness that can only be acquired by years of being alone. There was also a twinge of familiarity, a spot of anger that seemed to be sewn into the man’s livelihood. It turns out that maybe this Not-Crowley had some anger issues as well. Although the alien knew he was lonely, he wasn’t sad about it, instead it seemed he had a burning rage underneath. This man was more dangerous than Crowley ever could be.

Aziraphale found himself taking a step away, back to the door, “Well, it has been very interesting meeting you, but I do believe I should find my Crowley.”

The Doctor seemed to slouch a little and then he perked up, “Yes, I suppose you should. Buuuut, could I take you on a quick trip first? Any time or planet you want, I’ll have you back in this spot and time before anyone could blink. Before the TARDIS will travel back to the proper dimension.” There was his excitement again, causing even his hair to quiver with excitement.

Aziraphale shook his head, the decision was easy to make, “It seems a little too fast for me, traveling like that. I prefer where I am.”

“How do you know it’s too fast if you’ve never tried?” The Doctor kept smiling and held out his hand.

He’s sure the Doctor’s offer had successfully tempted many before him, but not him. He gave the taller man a small smile, “It was… interesting meeting you.” He walked to the door and opened it, “Good luck with your traveling.”

He didn’t look back as he left the box--or the TARDIS as the Doctor called it--not even when it started to make a grinding noise. The only other indicator that the man had left was the air in the alley felt less foregin and more like the Earth that Aziraphale dared to call home.

“What are you doing standing there, angel?” A rough voice called from the sidewalk, “Shouldn’t you be inside pretending to sell your books?”

Aziraphale couldn’t help the smile grow on his face as he saw the familiar figure. He made sure to double check as he got closer. Black clothes, check. Red hair, check. Tattoo, check. The cursed sunglasses, check. He’s sure that if he asked Crowley to take the sunglasses off just to triple check, the demon would groan but comply.

“What is it?” Crowley touched his face, “You’re staring. Don’t tell me you think I need facial hair now, you were the one who told me to get rid of it.”

He tried to stop the smile from growing wider on his face, “Yes, it didn’t suit you.” Aziraphale’s voice was softer than normal as he gazed at the demon--his demon.

Crowley’s expression was halfway obscured by his sunglasses but nevertheless, he seemed somewhat smug. “Dare I say it, angel, but that sounded a little mean.” He put a hand over his chest mockingly.

Aziraphale looked out at the cars parked along the sidewalk, spying the Bentley almost immediately. He glanced at Crowley, then at his feet, and then the car again before back to watching Crowley. “Yes, I suppose I’ve had a longer day than expected, perhaps I need a break for the afternoon.”

“We could do a late lunch, you still owe me from the Ritz.” The demon never forgot who owed the other a meal, even if the most recent was only two weeks ago.

“I, well, I was thinking maybe something different.” Aziraphale’s chest suddenly felt tight, a feeling he wasn’t quite familiar with. “Maybe we could go for a ride?” He glanced at the Bentley, suddenly aware of Crowley’s gaze on his reddened face.

If Crowley was surprised, it didn’t take him long to recover as he already headed towards the car, “We always do what you want to do.” He tried to complain, but the angel heard the fond tone in his voice.

Aziraphale knew many things thanks to the plethora of millennia he has been on Earth--given most of these things were now about the different hair styles Crowley has had over the years and why exactly he loved Queen so much, there were some things the angel still didn’t know. For example, he didn’t know why the mysterious man called the Doctor looked exactly like his demon, or where exactly the alien came from, or who Michael Sheen was. But most importantly, he didn’t know why it took him six thousand years to realize that he was in love with Crowley. What he did know was that he would never let Crowley radiate such loneliness and sadness as the Doctor did.

**Author's Note:**

> Ooof. Okay, so I haven't written fanfiction in years and I don't even feel bad for this because I feel like it turned out hella great!


End file.
